


Denial at It's Finest

by AnAngryRat



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAngryRat/pseuds/AnAngryRat
Summary: You sure? Is written on Clints wrist and at this point in his life he's pretty sure that he's too old, too cynical and too much of a fucking car crash to find his soulmate. He might as well bang Bucky Barnes for a pick-me-up while's he at it.





	Denial at It's Finest

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna probably add more. For you if you like it but mostly for me.

_You sure?_ It was written across his wrist in fat loops that nearly collided with each other in the center leaving just enough space for his vein to pop. Clint was born with it and when frustrated would trace the lines with his thumb. He knew it well especially since he'd been trying, intentionally or not, to get every person who'd had long exposure to him to say it.

His first kiss said it right before he sprained his wrist fucking around with the trapezes. His first, second and third wife said it when he proposed. He should have seen the warning signs in just that in itself. Nat said it when he offered her a job right after she'd shot him in the shin. She had said it in Russian, so not quite the same. Kate said it right before he jumped off a bridge and broke his leg in three places.

He'd used to be excited at the mere prospect of maybe just maybe this time they'll be the one. Or this is it. His life is going to change from here on out. But three failed marriages and one protege later Clint was old and tired and fucking done. He didn't want whatever the connection felt like. He didn't want to deal with the potential fall outs if he was rejected. It didn't matter anyway. No one was going to say the words the way they were intended. His soul wasn't going to connect to anybody they might as well be dead at this point.

Which made sense that he'd hear it once again from his longest standing friend right before he made a bad decision.

"You sure?" Nat asked around her cup of coffee.

Clint stared at the pure muscle cording Bucky Barnes' back. "Always." Clint chugged the rest of his coffee and stood up gently tapping the table to say good bye. He walked over to the counter taking his cup with him.

Clint leaned up against the fridge and set down his cup. He stole the pot before Bucky could grab it to refill his own and then over filled the cup eyebrow raised in challenge. The coffee slowly spilled onto the floor as Clint purposefully emptied it. Bucky slowly turned to fully face Clint. He raised an eyebrow. Clint grinned and put the coffee pot back like he wasn't standing in a puddle of rapidly cooling coffee.

They heard a chair scrape back as Natasha left the room and grabbed Wanda who walked in and nearly asked a question she wouldn't want the answered.

"You got a problem, Barton?"

Clint couldn't help but grin as Bucky’s glare slowly grew darker. Clint picked up his cup sloshing coffee over his hand and not even wincing. He took a slow sip burning his mouth. "Nothing, Barnes. Just getting some coffee."

Barnes stared at him as Clint took another sip.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing." Clint shrugged the coffee spilling over his hand again as he took another sip.

Bucky blinked slowly before snatching the coffee from out of his hand. Clint bit his lip and watched as Bucky made eye contact and downed the whole cup letting some of it spill around the sides of his mouth. Clint followed a drop trail down his throat and over is soulmark.

Bucky slammed the cup down shattering it against the counter with his left hand.

"Thanks."

Clint shifted from foot to foot. That may have been the most threateningly hot thing Clint had ever seen. "Wanna take this somewhere else?"

It may be the first time in the history of ever that Clint saw Bucky surprised.

"Where were you thinking?" Bucky said leaning in and holy shit if that's his smolder no wonder Nat fucked him as many times as she claims.

Clint leaned back crossing his arms. Bucky eyed them and Clint flexed for show. "The training room?"

Bucky was silent for a long time. Clint liked to think that he was a bit of a hypocrite telling Nat not to worry.

"Alright, what for?"

"We spar then," Clint leaned in close letting Bucky feel tall so he could look up at him under his eyelashes. "We see who's a better shot."

Bucky’s metal fingers clinked against the granite as he weighed the offer.

"Let's go."

"I had a feeling you'd say that." Clint said walking out and flicking his soaked pant seams to spray coffee across the floor. "We have to leave real fast because Sam’s going to be pissed when he sees the mess."

Bucky let out a soft huff of air and Clint decided that was a laugh.

 

 

Things had been going great until Clint decided to push his luck, mutter something in Russian and found himself splayed out on the ground with probably a broken nose. He sat up and blinked back stars gently touching his nose. Bucky was hovering uncomfortably above him. "I'm sorry. I didn't--"

Clint waved away his discomfort. He looked up and made eye contact wanting to make it clear that he'd done this to himself. Then he smiled bright and stupid through the taste of blood covering his teeth. Always the fool. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine." Bucky stumbled back. Clint wiped at his nose. "Not like I didn't deserve it." His hand came away red. Bucky still wasn't responding he was just staring at Clint wide and horrified.

"Hey, I'm fine." Clint reassured again.

Bucky seemed to snap back.

 "You sure?"

Flame caught on a gas stove filling its little burner and Clint felt the warm embrace of a hug that he'd never had. It was so real that Clint unconsciously leaned forward listing into it. God he just wanted a hug and it was there all around him. Just before he was truly able to sink into it, the hold became too tight and then it began to shrink until it was just a noose around his neck. Clint's eyes widened to saucers and he suddenly reentered reality seeing his own dawning horror reflected in the face across from him.

This was how at the stifling age of thirty-eight Clinton Francis Barton soulbonded with his soulmate and felt the first inklings of a rejection.

Well fucking done.

           

 

The Asset did not have a soulmark until the early 1980s. This led to several painful and torturous experiments to remove the soulmark from around The Assets neck until 1990 when they were found inconclusive and too expensive. The soulmark stayed and Hydra thought that the random potential of a soulmark would make the possibility of such an occurrence, given the Asset and his limited access to the outside world, nigh impossible.

They didn't even expect him to read it. He did and remembered it sometime in the early 2000s when he was unfrozen for weeks instead of days. The words are in chicken scratch and appear unerringly carved into the skin at the base of his neck.

_Don't worry about it. I'll be fine._

It's reassuring while it lasts.

Fifteen years later he was free and was relatively certain that whoever tied their soul to him made a massive mistake.

Three years later he's staring at Clint Barton's slowly darkening eyes and watching his face split into a bloody smile as he tried to give Bucky some words of reassurance. The amount of self-depreciation stuffed into the slouch of his shoulders told Bucky all he needed to know about what comes next. He can barely even hear the words when the world snapped into sharp focus and the relief of a pulled trigger and the confidence of know exactly where a shot will land before it hits. It's free falling and knowing you'll land safely so enjoying the ride down. He's overwhelmed by the amount of pure content that comes from that easy confidence and self-congratulatory attitude that he steps back. Then Clint said something, and it clicks. Clint was his soulmate. He punched him in the face a minute ago because he got triggered by a Russian pun. Jesus Christ.

"Hey, I'm fine." Clint said blood dripping slowly down his face. Oh god. He'd done that.

"You sure?" Bucky asked. He'd broken Clint's face. His soulmates face. It looked awful.

Clint blinked slowly as if drugged listing forward Bucky resists the urge to kneel and touch. It's not as if he's Clint's soulmate. The man was still bleeding from a bloody nose.

"Clint?" The other man’s blue eyes go right back to Bucky large and fearful.

The confidence drains away and he's hanging from a building held only by his wrist. Oh no. Clint looked down and finds his shirt covered in blood.

"Aw, fuck." He said hopping on to his feet. "Sorry to cut this session short but I probably need to get my nose popped back into place." He walked backwards towards the exit. "Maybe next time, Robocop."

Then he's gone. Buck stares at the small specks of blood on the mat then turns around to punch one of the wall mirrors behind him. It doesn't ground him even when he walks carelessly through the glass scattered over the ground. He's still over that ledge held by a slowly loosening grip on his wrist.

Fuck.

 

 

Bruce fixed Clint's nose with a flash and a twist of pain. Clint just stared at the adjacent wall when he pulled back.

"You gonna be alright?" Bruce asked placing the bandages and then checking his lip.

"You know it."

Bruce leaned back and opened his mouth with that pinched looked between his brows that Clint was so sick of seeing.

"Yes. I'm sure." Clint bit out before he could open his well-meaning little mouth. "I'm gonna go take a nap." Clint grunted shuffling off the medical table. Natasha stopped him before he left the room and gently touched his neck her brows furrowed dangerously.

"He do this?"

"No." Clint said like a liar. Of course, Bucky didn't want a soulmate. He'd been through hell, wasn't like he'd want to go through hell, Clint, again. Clint should just forget about it.

"He did." Natasha's grip grew firm her fingers pressing into the skin.

Clint grabbed her hand and pushed it off. "No, I did it. He's a brain fucked Assassin who got triggered. I was an asshole who toed the line and did that." He sighed. Half-truths always sound better. She backed up, face closed off. Clint avoided face palming and walked away. "Now I'm going to go back to my room and lay down for a long time and sleep off the embarrassment."

Natasha let him go. Thank god.

 

Bucky knocked on Steve's door. Clint's bloody sincere smile sitting in technicolor behind his eyelids. Steve opened the door sweaty and with a strained smile. Bucky blinked then swiveled around to walk away.

"Wait!"

Bucky had to try not to cover his ears like a child when he heard Starks voice next.

"Is it going to take you five years to fuck me again or are we going to get this show on the road?"

"I'll find you in one, no, two hours!" Steve promised.

"Please don't!" Bucky called back before the door shut again. He should never have friends. Ever. They were awful.

He tried to head back to his room but had to circumvent when Natalia came at him looking like wrath herself. Bucky slipped around a corner and then pulled himself up into an air vent. She walked right past him. Thank fucking Christ. She might have known where he was but at least she was letting it go. But why? Once he was sure she was gone he dropped out of the vents.

"Jarvis."

"Yes, Sargent?"

"Restrict everyone's access to the video records from the sparring area."

"I'll assume that you mean from the last hour."

Bucky shivered. He really did not like how much control Jarvis has.

"Yes."

"Done."

Bucky nodded and padded away silently. Time to go hide. Better safe than sorry.

 

Two and a half hours later Steve found him sitting half way out a window. Bucky really hated the guy.

"You're not going to jump, are you?" Steve said situating himself next to Bucky. It wasn't until Steve said it that it even crossed Bucky’s mind.

"No." He did't like high places and it didn't even make sense that he'd choose here considering that he constantly felt like he was about to fall off the edge.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Bucky didn't answer just kicking out his legs.

"You only come when you need something."

"Not always."

"Always. So, what is it?"

"What are you my dad?"

"Gross."

"Then stop trying to push it, Dad."

"Now, son, what we--"

"Stop it you win." Bucky said making a face.

Steve grinned and knocked shoulders with him. "Going to tell me? Does it have something to do with Natasha she was hunting for you earlier."

At the drop of her name he froze. Bucky had broken her best friends nose. Bucky had tied her best friend to him irreparably.

"It does have to do with Nat?" Steve guessed sitting back on his hands. "Don't worry I can wait you out." He could but Bucky decided to let him suffer, watching the city with a Birdseye view. Shoulders tense. Held over the edge. The rushing river below. Then he was gently lowered until he reached solid ground and it was such a release of tension that Bucky fell back into the building, letting his back hit the ground with an aggressive thud and stared at the ceiling. He no longer felt like he had to be on a ledge or in an air duct just to breathe.

"Buck?"

"He finally fell asleep." Bucky muttered his eyes fluttering close. It had been a total of four hours since they had found out that they were soulmates. Four hours of being rejected and being over that ledge. Four hours of feeling like a nightmare while the world was placid around him. He didn't want to know what Clint was feeling. Bucky didn't think he was rejecting the bond. He hopes he isn't.

"Who?” Steve was right next to him like he fell over too.

"My soulmate."

"You soulbonded?"

"Unfortunately." Bucky answered. "What do I do?"

Steve stayed quiet. Bucky opened an eye to look at him.

"Natasha?" Steve asked.

"No." Natasha and him were too similar. When they collided, it was two pieces of glass trying to shatter each other. They weren't productive or comfortable.

"Then who?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It kind of does. Don't you want to woo them?"

"No."

"Then you're rejecting them."

"No." Clint didn't deserve that kind of pain.

"You kind of are."

"I don't want to."

"Then woo them."

Clint's bloody smile projected across his eyelids. "No."

"Bucky, you're one stubborn motherfucker."

"I'm also incredibly dangerous."

Steve groaned. "What do you want then? You're rejecting them by doing nothing, you know?"

Bucky covered his face. "You don't get it."

"I do."

"I broke their nose."

Silence.

"I broke their nose and the words around my neck are reassurance that I did nothing wrong." Bucky sat up and pulled his legs up and hugged them close to his body. "That level of violence isn't welcome in most relationships."

Steve wrapped a warm arm around his shoulders. "He probably knew it was instinct."

"Over a pun." Bucky muttered. "No one should be broken over a Russian pun."

"Ignoring it will make it worse." Steve said pulling him closer.

Bucky allowed himself the vulnerability of rubbing his wrist. "I know."

"Maybe talk to them."

"No."

"Worked for me and Tony."

"Pot meet kettle."

Steve chuckled the humor chilling. "Five years of pain and silence and anger. Do you want that?"

Bucky had spent nearly seventy years the in that state. "No."

"Talk to them."

Bucky didn't answer. The decision was already made.

 

 

Clint awoke to the heat of another body wrapped around him and he hummed sank further into bed. He floated between awake and sleep for a while before it hit him. He went to bed alone. To sleep. The one thing he was awful at. (He was awful at a lot of things but sleeping when not exhausted was at the top of the list right before relationships.) Clint hopped out of bed, but the warm feeling followed him. Right. Soulmate. Bucky Barnes. Clint went to pinch the bridge of his nose but instead met gauze and tape and hissed. Broken nose. He turned to the mirror. A split lip. Barnes did a lot of damage in so little time.

That's hot.

No, it isn't. Clint can't filter his brain. Coffee he needs coffee. He wanders around his little apartment until he crosses paths with his own coffee machine. The process of changing filters and moving things around puts his mind at ease but that also might be the warm feeling. Not ‘good but could use some changing’ but straight up acceptance and even happiness. Jesus.

The drip finished, and Clint's hand wandered for a mug that wasn't there. Because Bucky broke the last one he had. At least he looked cool while exploding Clint's mug. He sighed letting his hand hit the counter and picked up the coffee pot.

He took a sip off the top and continued walking around the apartment like a blind puppy. He'd just settled into sitting down to watch cartoons and fiddle with his arrows when a knock startled him. Just leave him be for five fucking seconds. Clint brought the coffee pot and the arrow with him to open the door.

Bucky stood hands clenching and unclenching nervously. Then he stopped and eyed Clint up and down. Clint crossed his arms awkwardly over his bare chest and spilled coffee on his toes and dropped the arrow, so it stuck in the wood paneling less than an inch from his foot.

"What-" Clint's voice cracked, and he tried to lean against the door jamb, missed and took four steps to get his balance again. "What's up?"

Bucky was quiet for so long that Clint actually takes a sip from the pot while waiting. Bucky’s brows furrowed. Clint shrugs. "You broke my last mug." He made elongated eye contact the next time he takes a drink.

"So..." they had been standing here for a solid minute and Bucky was looking more and more murderous.

"Could you stop." Bucky finally said.

Clint narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"You're rejecting me. It's--" Bucky rolled his shoulders. "Just stop."

"Stop what?"

"Rejecting me."

"I haven't rejected you," Clint said. "I just needed to get some medical attention. I didn't even know we really had a thing. But I wanted one and you seemed interested so..."

Bucky’s lips parted in what Clint guessed is a gape.

"Are you fucking with me?"

Clint shook his head slowly bringing the pot to his mouth. Bucky sighed so heavily it might have been a groan.

"Okay, denial. I can work with this." After that Bucky leaned in placing his silver arm up on the door jamb and turned on the smolder and Clint wasn't prepared. He wasn't prepared when he opened the door in his boxers, but he was now uncomfortably unprepared for James Barnes smiling at him like that so early in the morning. "I'd like to continue where we left off yesterday."

Clint choked, the warm rush of affection upsetting him, and dumped coffee all over his chest. "Before or after I messed it up." He got out.

"Before I messed it up of course."

Clint wiped fruitlessly at his chin. He was just going to have to take a shower. "Yeah let's do that."

Bucky undressed him viscerally. "Great. See you on the range in an hour." With that he closed the door for Clint leaving him in a small puddle of coffee with half a coffee pot left. Clint rubbed his face then flinched. That just happened.

 

Steve found Bucky at the range ten minutes before Clint was supposed to show up. Bucky was throwing knives and needles and fucking rubber balls at a target and hitting them all dead center. The pile up had fallen to the ground and now Bucky was back to knives. He was a really accurate shot. Really dead on. But--tsh --only--Tsh-- with-- tsh--guns.

It was fucking unnerving to be so good with literally anything.

"Um...how's the soulmate thing going?" Steve asked watching from a distance. A safe distance. Bucky flicked a knife in his direction and was pleased when it slid through his jeans into the ground. Huh.

"Jesus fucking Christ!!!" Steve said jumping back and stumbling when the knife held him down for a fraction of a second. "You're such a fucking asshole."

Bucky huffed and pulled another knife flicking it over his metal knuckles. He still felt like he was hanging over a cliff and the more Clint denied it the more his grip on the edge loosened. If he thought about it too long he still had two flesh arms and was holding onto a broken train. But the super accuracy was such a bonus at the moment Bucky couldn't even ponder his rejection much.

Steve threw the knife at him and Bucky threw up the first knife to catch it and then caught both. Good god this was so much fun. The absolute control he controlled over so little. He wondered if he could do a backflip. That stopped him. He could do a backflip before but...

"How's it going?" Steve asked again while Bucky tried to figure out what was different.

"Great."

"Really?"

"No. I feel like I'm dying constantly but watch this." Bucky flicked both the knives and made them fly millimeters from Steve's head. Steve flinched and let out another string of curses.

"You were too close to killing me too many times for you to pull shit like that anymore." Steve said hands over his ears.

"I literally couldn't do that before."

"Yes, you could. I have video of you doing that for training."

Bucky flicked the knife over his metal fingers. "Huh."

Steve let go of his ears and let Bucky’s words roll over his tongue. "They're rejecting you."

Bucky went over to the target and started cleaning up by absently tossing objects from the range and onto the table. Only one out of all fifteen knives didn't fall on its point. "It's fine. I've got it handled."

"Is it over--" Steve held out a hand.

Bucky snorted honest to god snorted and tossed the bouncy ball into Steve's open palm. "No. He's an idiot."

"Okay." Steve squeezed the ball. "Where'd this come from?"

Bucky leaned back and had his stomach swoop before standing ramrod straight. "I don't know; it just felt like fun."

Steve hummed. "Right, who's your soulmate again?"

Bucky shrugged. "They'll be here soon." Hopefully.

"Can I see them?"

"Not for the best."

"Why do you say that?"

Bucky looked at Steve. Giving him a straight answer would put Clint in an awkward situation and possibly scare him off but.... Clint put Bucky in an awkward situation too.

"I think you know why. Just go creepy spy on us like Stark pretends not to do."

Steve rolled his eyes. "He doesn't spy on you."

"Tell that to Jarvis, who always gives me accurate accounts about how much security footage the two of you watch."

Steve walked away throwing up his hands. "Fine! I'll do it the easy yet morally dubious way."

Bucky flipped him off. "Suck a dick."

"Probably," Steve shouted before the door clicked shut behind him.

"Sir has already seen the footage in the training room." Jarvis piped up unhelpfully. Bucky picked up his gun and shot at the four known security cameras. "That was unnecessary."

"Stop your bitchin'" Bucky muttered cleaning his guns.

 

Clint padded around the tower barefoot heading to the range. He should probably head back to his place eventually buuuut...that's what Kate is for. Leaving would prevent him from getting into Bucky Barnes' pants and that's just not right. He was so close especially if he ignored that little feeling of nope not going there. (He's not rejecting Bucky. They were on the same path, right? *Bucky drops to his knees next to the shooting range and starts cursing profusely* Right?

"Where are you going?" Natasha asked slinking around the corner like a Bond villain.

"To the range. Me and Barnes are going to have a little sniper competition." Clint slipped his hands into his pockets. Innocent. The information she wants isn't there because it couldn't possibly happen. He's definitely not feeling the ghost of a hug right now. Definitely not. *Bucky grips his right hand and fails to stand up*

"Is he going to lock away the footage of that too?" She crossed her arms.

"I don't know. Maybe if we have sex." Clint answered with a lecherous grin.

Nat hummed thinking. "You don't lie."

"I lie constantly."

"To me." Nat emphasized. "But you always lie when you're trying to play something down."

"There's nothing to be played down. Cause nothing happened." *Bucky forced himself up to stepped on top of a table and climb up the air shaft cursing Barton's name six ways to Sunday*

"Denial." Nat chided. Barnes said the same thing.

"Probably." Clint agreed. *Bucky takes a deep breath and relaxes in the air vent left hand still gripping his flesh hand tightly*

Nat patted his shoulder and walked past him. "I'll figure it out, denial or not."

"I expect nothing less. But there's also nothing there." *Bucky dented the air shaft with a particularly violent twitch*

Nat just hmm'd and let him be. Clint sighed. Got away with that for now.

 

"Uh...hello?" Bucky pulled himself over to the vent opening and watched as the cause of all his problems wandered around aimlessly. "Have I been stood up?"

"No," Bucky grunted loud enough to be heard and popped the vent open and let himself drop back on to the ground. He had to swallow back bile. He, for the first time in his life, missed the confined space of a fucking air vent.

"You look like shit."

Bucky looked skyward and contemplated the processes by which he could murder Clint Barton. "Thanks you’re not too bad yourself." He said instead.

"Sorry." Clint scratched the back of his head. "I didn't know you liked hiding in the sky."

"I don't." Bucky said picking up a hand gun. He tossed one to Clint who turned off his hearing aids.

"Okay." Clint said almost too quietly for Bucky to hear. "Three rounds; hand gun, knife, bow--"

"Rifle."

Clint glared at him.

Bucky held up four fingers. "Four rounds. I know when I'm about to be fucked Barton."

Clint held up one finger. "Fine."

"I hate you so much." Bucky whispered holding up the pistol.

Clint's hand shook before he mimicked Bucky’s movements and they began.

 

Clint was staring at the results while Bucky cleaned off his favorite gun. "How are you so good at everything?"

Bucky smiled. He'd been on solid ground for a while now, no longer on the ledge not since Clint walked in. The rush of free fall wasn't there but at least he wasn't dying. "Super soldier." He grunted.

"If we're dead even, does that make me super soldier good?"

"Whose nose got broken?"

Clint wagged his finger. "You got me there. But at least admit if we had stopped at three I would have won."

"Maybe if we event a fifth weapon best three out of five would work."

Clint clicked his tongue. "Spoil sport."

"Cheater."

"Opportunist."

"Only cheaters say that." Bucky said.

"What do we do now?" Clint asked rubbing his neck.

"Balls in your court." Bucky had already made all the hard decisions. "I wouldn't mind spending more time with you." As long as it kept the cliff at bay.

"I'd like you," Clint started as Bucky eyed the outside of the gun for areas he'd missed. "To be." Bucky hummed pointing the gun away finger on the trigger. "Balls deep in me."

Bucky shot the far wall. "What?"

"Look," Clint took off his shirt, "you are kind of all kinds of hot when holding a gun. You just spent the last five minutes jerking it off, it's suggestive all in itself."

Bucky set down the gun. "We can't even kiss."

"What are you? My date for prom?"

That sounded like a challenge. Bucky was always up for a challenge. "Fine. Let me find lube."

Clint unzipped his jeans. "I knew you'd agree."

 

The kitchen communal was oddly packed today with most of the team sitting and eating in various states of tired and dead on their feet. Clint observed eyes glazed as he shoveled cereal into his mouth that Steve and Tony were literally eating pancakes with their fingers. Who the fuck does that? They might have also been arguing over something on Tony's tablet but that's beside the point. Animals. Bucky was eating oatmeal (what an old fart) sitting on the counter obviously bored by whatever Sam was saying. His hair was getting long, and he had pulled it into a messy bun and Clint wanted to pull hard on that shit. Bucky had been very adamant about not bottoming which in Clint's opinion was very old fashioned. It was a new age, versatility was a thing now. But Buckeroni only says that'll happen once Clint admits to that thing he's denying. Whatever that is.

Bucky drops his spoon and grips his wrist. Sam’s brows furrow and Bucky shrugs off his concern picking the spoon back up. Clint doesn't think he'd hurt him when they were sparring (or fucking it was nearly synonymous at this point.) He wonders what's that about. The spoon bends in Bucky’s hand but he continues to eat. Clint might feel the edgings of a noose slowly circle around his neck. He tenses his own spoon missing the bowl. Then it's gone and he's still warm and happy. Weird.

A shadow is blocking his view of Bucky hopping off the counter and putting away his dishes. Clint watches him leave enjoying the look of his ass in those jeans.

"You and Bucky?" Clint looks up and meets Steve's gaze.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're soulmates." Steve whispered close.

"Probably not. But you never know." There was a commotion behind Clint and he turned just in time to watch Bucky run for the bathroom.

"Mmhm. What makes you say that?"

Natasha rounded the counter to sit on the other side. "I'm curious too."

"I'm old weak and stupid. Having a soulmate is beyond me. I'm going to die alone." Clint took a bite of cereal. "That's just my fate."

"But you're fucking Bucky." Natasha said. Steve flushed and then crossed his arms to cover it.

"Gotta find happiness when you can."

"You could never wear the hermit well, Clint."

"How about the hanged man?" Steve said. Nat and Clint stared at him eyes wide. "I know tarot." He defended.

Nat shrugged.

Clint pointed his spoon at them. "Your both wrong." He said getting up. "I am the fool."

"The fool actually does something. The hanged man sits on his ass and waits just like an idiot I would know." Nat said pushing herself up and grabbing his eye. "I think you should make a move."

Clint put his half-eaten bowl in the sink then left the room.

 

Bucky was looking over Clint's soulmark it heated at his touch and it was just wave after wave of calm. Clint stared at him. Natasha's words ringing in his head. Bucky’s grip tightened on his wrist.

"Your soulmark is stupid."

Clint swallowed. "Why's that?"

"I haven't seen that hand writing in seventy years, first of all," Bucky said. "Second the question mark is unnecessary. You're always sure. Stupid yeah but not the second-guessing type."

Clint touched Bucky’s neck. "Ironically yours is fitting."

Bucky hummed and caught his fingers. "It's for the best you that you don't touch it." Bucky turned, and he must have seen something in Clint's eyes because he chuckled darkly and reached over to his bedside for his cigarettes and quickly lit one. Clint watched the end light up the area around his lips. Clint didn't think before saying what he said next.

"Why are you with me?"

Bucky shrugged. "You've got a nice ass."

Clint felt a noose slowly close and the warmth fade away. It was hard to breathe.

"I could say the same about you."

Bucky blew out a small plume of smoke. "That's probably because all you want to do is fuck, flirt and fight."

Clint pushed up onto his elbow. "What do you want to do then?"

Bucky hummed around his cigarette then put it out on his metal arm. "Want to watch a movie?"

Clint nodded, and the noose slowly loosened, and he was embraced once again. Bucky cupped his face and smiled beatifically taking the air right out of Clint's lungs.

"Great."

Bucky was his soulmate, Clint decided, no matter how much Clint really didn't deserve him.

 

 

It seemed odd that Clint would be one of those people who took up all the space on couches, beds, chairs, and covers. He was often curled up in tight spaces, so the way he seemed to expand over all available surfaces was a surprise. Especially the third time Bucky was kicked out of his own bed in the middle of the night. That made it even stranger when he was curled up on the corner of the couch while _Chopping Mall_ plays in the background. Clint pulled at his pants. He sighed. Bucky stopped the movie and resisted rubbing at the nonexistent hold on his wrist. The ravine was closer than it had been in a while.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going home tomorrow."

"Okay." What was the problem?

"So, we won't see each other."

"We both know where each other live."

"Right."

"You know where to find me."

Clint chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "Good. I've missed my dog and... other Hawkeye."

Bucky slowly turned to look at him. "Other Hawkeye?"

"You'd love Kate. She can take a punch and is horribly sarcastic."

"Sounds like a punk. She your...." Clint was old enough.... "daughter?"

Clint paled. God this was awkward.

"No. I cut all ties to me and future Barton's by the time I was able to vote."

"Okay." Thank fuck. Being soulmates and... boyfriends was hellish as it was, but a kid was beyond Bucky’s limited emotional capacity.

"She's a sidekick. Like how you’re a sidekick."

Bucky frowned. "Right."

"Anyway, guess this is our last night living in the same place..."

"Yes?"

"Let me fuck you." That's what he's playing at. Bucky rolled his eyes and sank into the couch crossing his arms.

"Admit we're soulmates."

"Out loud?"

"Yes."

"Never."

Bucky’s metal fingers ripped through his shirt and he felt a small jolt from the train trying to throw him off.

"No sex." He grunted.

"Fine."

His fingers were sweating and Steve's face was a mask of fear. The couch moved as Clint got up. 

“Great. Go home. Have fun alone.” Bucky snapped.

"Not like you'd want to be my soulmate anyway."

Bucky's eyes squeezed shut as he felt himself fall. He hit the ground at the same time as his door snapped shut. He got up and ran feeling the bile rise up his throat. Then he vomited over and over and…

Bucky stared at the blood slowly being diluted by water. Things had been getting better. He hadn't felt this rejected in weeks. What had he done? Oh, wait that's right, he'd asked for some fucking verbal acceptance. Bucky had been a goddamn angel. These last few weeks. He replaced Clint's mug, they'd been fucking in actual beds, he'd watched the _entire_ Cruel Intentions series, and they might have been having long conversations about nothing for all he could remember. What the fuck was wrong with his soulmate? Maybe he was in the wrong. No. Wait. Clint had been safe for the entirety of this clusterfuck. It was him who had to grow up and figure out his own shit. Bucky closed his eyes. Stupid motherfucker didn't deserve his help.

 

 

"What did you do?" Natasha asked. Clint frowned and looked at his door. He couldn't have been so zoned out he didn't hear the lock click. He swallowed and took another bite of ice cream thinking about what he'd have to do to make the door loud enough for him to hear. Wait. He grabbed his ear with one hand. Nope, his hearing aids were in. He just needed a jankier lock.

Nat sat down elegantly across from him. "I'll repeat. What did you do?"

Clint licked his spoon. The guy on third had the worst locks. He'd get him an old creaky lock, so he could hear when his best friend (or soulmate if he ever came back) would stop by and interrogate him.

"Barnes won't talk and Rogers was the one who dropped the soulmate secret that the two of you have been very poorly keeping. What did you do?"

His spoon scraped the bottom of the container awkwardly. He was out of ice cream he threw and the container into the sink and sighed when it missed. It was probably because he was so cold. The ice had crept up moments after he’d left Barnes’ apartment after their petty little argument.

He sighed. "I fucked up, like I do."

"Fix it. He's freaking everyone out."

"He told me not to come." Clint said.

Natasha tapped her fingers against the counter. "You listened."

"Well yeah. It's the Winter Soldier."

"That never bothered you before."

"It does now that the weight of his happiness is on an old man who has the third worst track record of anybody on the team."

"The first two being me and--"

"Bucky of course."

"Unbelievable."

Clint shrugged.

Natasha let him sit for a bit and Clint liked her dress it was very sixties. Lucky rounded the corner and bumped into his leg (Kate had dropped him off yesterday). This must have been Natasha breaking point because as soon as the dog was there Clint could ignore her cold stare for millenniums before she got her answers.

"Bucky had broken ribs, ruptured spleen and a mild concussion a few days ago."

Clint stood up. He needed more ice cream to fill the hole that guilt had created.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't dignify himself with an answer just walked over to the fridge. Clint stuck his head in the freezer raised one arm to pop off the lid of ice cream and then spooned it in.

"Clint?"

"I need to eat my feelings."

"You...actually feel guilty." Natasha said. "What did you do?" She repeated for the umpteenth time.

"This is going to sound awful." Clint said slowly dragging himself and the ice cream out of the freezer. Natasha was still sitting and waiting patiently as he set up across from her.

"Tell me anyway."

"Naw." The ice cream always surprised him when it melted in his mouth. Cold shoulders are apparently literal when soulbonded. Terrific.

"You're the biggest idiot I've ever met."

"The Fool."

Natasha sighed in disgust. Clint played with his spoon. Her fingers tapped against the counter again. Clint heard a faint buzzing then Nat's phone lit up like the Fourth of July.

They made eye contact. Nat answered.

"Suit up, bitches!" Tony called. "We've got aliens on the street!"

They were both up and gone before he even finished the sentence.

 

Seventy- two hours ago he looked like a train wreck and felt like a train wreck and wished the train wreck had actually killed him. Now he was punching aliens and getting green splashes of blood over his armor and questioning how long it'd take to get this shit out of his hair. Also, Clint was there.

Bucky punched something again and it crunched under his metal hand. Clint was up in a nest three buildings away.

"Uh...Bucky? You good." Steve asked over the coms.

Bucky scaled a back-alley wall. "Peachy Captain." He fired fourteen shots into fourteen aliens.

"But..." Steve led.

He jumped over the wall. "Fuck the fuck off."

Bucky wanted to be in his own nest but noooo. He was stuck here covered in blood and moving further away from the team to catch stragglers and to get away from Hawkeyes gaze. Bucky shot three more aliens then did a quick check of his surroundings.

 

What the fuck is Bucky doing? He left his back completely unguarded. Clint's stuck covering for him instead of trying to shoot that big battalion out of the sky or keep anyone else from dying. Fuck. Clint looks between the flying reinforcements and the gun pointed at Bucky's back. One or the other. If he shoots killer alien he won't have the right angle for the ship. His eyes flick between them one more time. Fuck it. Both. He shot the alien, ran off the edge of the building and aimed.

 

Bucky heard a thump and had a split second of seeing the alien with an arrow in its throat before looking up at the giant falling idiot shooting at the sky. Fuck, fuck, fuck.... he launched himself off a bus, caught Clint's vest in one hand and shoved his left hand into the concrete of the parking garage. He stuck his legs out to cushion the landing, but he still hit the wall hard. Fuck.

He panted. His hand was stuck in a fucking concrete wall giving him a pretty good view of a large air ship crashing into a park. Stark moves towards it and in less than thirty seconds all the aliens were down.

Clint was laughing hysterically, and Bucky felt him wiggle in his grasp and watched him punch the air. There was a small trail of blood from his hairline leading down to his chin.

"Hawkeye saves his boyfriend and the day. Fuck yeah!"

"Oh?"

"Don't mock me Barnes. I fuckin’ rocked that."

"So, you were planning on falling to your death?"

"Naw. Knew you'd catch me."

Bucky felt it blow past him in such a rush. The release of pure excitement and adrenaline. Free falling and knowing you'll land perfectly safe. Bucky tilted his head towards the sun and tried to enjoy the moment.

"How so?"

Clint gave as much as a shrug as he could while behind held by a tactical vest twenty feet in the air. "Same way I know I have a concussion and am going to vomit."

Bucky sobered up at that. "What?"

Clint's vomit splattered on the ground below and his body became much less twitchy. Bucky shook him. Nothin. Well. Shit.

 

Clint woke up in a hospital and grinned. Hawkeye saved the day. He fist pumped.

"Yes!" he whispered.

"Tony's taking credit for shooting the driver. Your arrow only lit the fuel tank on fire." Bucky's deep and placid voice informed him.

Clint swiveled to look at him then leaned his head against the pillow and tried to make the world stop spinning. "Totally unfair."

"I agree."

Clint shrugged and felt the warmth from the soulbond again, but it doesn't feel like much with Bucky’s distance sitting across the room in a hospital chair. "What are you doing here?"

Bucky looked up from the book he's reading. "Sorry, you got slammed into the wall."

Clint frowned. "You caught me, it doesn't matter."

Bucky inspected him from his spot. "If you say so."

He looked content to leave it at that. Clint isn't.

"Why are you here if you don't even like me?"

Bucky froze at that and stood up. When he's the few precious feet closer and sitting at the chair by his bed he finally sat down. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said." Clint answered.

Bucky sat back in his chair and he crossed his arms refusing to look at him. "You're right I don't like you. I fucking hate your guts." Clint felt the first rabbiting of fear come. "You put me through so much pain, I've been clinging to the edge of the train I died falling off of for months. You even dropped me off of it and didn't leave me the courtesy of fuckin dying this time. So, I hate you. Then I'll remember your smile, the real one not the one when you’re trying to piss people off, and I'll remember how much fun you put into the shit that had made my life a nightmare for decades and how you make boring movies enjoyable and, and all I want to do is come back because you make things that are shitty better. So, I hate your fucking guts, Barton, but there's nothing on earth that'll stop me from coming back to you."

Bucky wipes his nose and Clint realizes he's trying not to cry. Clint gave up on that front awhile ago.

"That sucks because I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you which is convenient since you’re my soulmate and all."

Bucky meets his eyes for the first time since Clint opened his eyes there's that sliver a brightness there and absolute wonder. Like a kid at the circus. Bucky gets up out of his chair and gently cups his face.

"I'm sorry for slamming you into a building." He says again.

Clint leans his head into Bucky's hand. "That's okay. You caught me that's all that matters."

Bucky presses their lips together and it feels like coming home from a long day, a hug when needed, a warm blanket and hot coffee. Clint can't help but lean in for more.

**Author's Note:**

> Soul thing explained. This one is more amorphous than Passion but runs on the same theme. If the two souls are on the same page fun happy feelings if they aren't bad feelings. The words spoken aren't the first words but cornerstones to a persons life.
> 
> Edit: 300 of you didn't tell me there was a copy and paste error shame on your cows.


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